


Rut

by Ruler_of_Nope_Island



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blood, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Dubious Consent, F/F, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Oral Sex, Rutting, Vaginal Fisting, Violence, watersports mentioned
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 04:30:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20633108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ruler_of_Nope_Island/pseuds/Ruler_of_Nope_Island
Summary: Two hunters go into rut.Literally just weird porn.





	Rut

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you read the content warnings.

Jon pretends not to notice that Daisy is grinding down on her chair. He doesn’t want to embarrass her and God knows this is mortifying enough already. 

“I’ve been reading some statements,” he says, staring down at his desk, his palms sweating. “About the Hunt. And its effect on its followers.”

Daisy’s hips roll slightly. He can smell it. Her. He’s never felt so blessed to not be interested in that sort of thing, because it’s making the other staff climb the walls. Going into the stationary cupboard without knocking has been a dangerous game. 

“Oh?” Daisy says, her voice low and gravelly. Tim’s verdict on her comes back to him: A mad bitch, but I’d let her peg me until I cried. 

“Meeting other hunters can make you...sensitive. In certain ways.”

“Yes. I’ve noticed.” 

“Good.” Good? Jesus Christ, Sims. “So, hmm. It’s affecting other people in the Institute. Peter Lukas has asked Martin to ask me to ask you to, um, sort it out.”

That gets a feral snarl in reply. 

“It’s not that simple. It can’t just be anyone-”

“-it has to be another hunter.”

He looks up. There’s a yellow tinge around her irises. Unspoken between them: Basira won’t do.   
Daisy cocks her head. She hasn’t sized him up like that since before the coffin.

“Can you find out where Julia is?” 

“You must know some people on the force,” Jon squeaks. Is this the strange work of the web? Get Daisy killed and leave him defenseless? 

“No. They were always a bit mild for me. A few little bites. Nothing brutal-”

“Yes, yes. I get your point. Thank you. And no, I can’t just see where she is.”

“Guess I’ll have to go looking.” Daisy stands up. “Do you want me to make a statement after I’m done?”

“That would actually be quite helpful,” Jon says, before he can stop himself. “We have a few describing the rut itself, but mostly by bystanders.”  
“Might satisfy some of your cravings too,” Daisy says. She slams the door behind her. 

*

Everything throbs. It’s never been like this before. 

On the force, after a really good chase, she’d usually just pull the pants off which ever hunt-touched officer was closest and ride them raw. Or wank herself half catatonic. Another thing she’s always kept from Basira. It was an itch that she scratched.

This, though - this makes her blood pound in her ears. She’s taken to wearing skirts because she soaks through her underwear and jeans after about half an hour. Wakes up, dripping, moaning, her body drenched in sweat. Nothing works. She slipped away from the Institute and fucked her way through half the lesbian bars in London and still she burns for it. 

Thing is, she hates Julia. Hated her on sight. And after listening to her second statement and after she threatened Daisy’s archivist and after the insults - well. It makes this so much harder. The fact that Julia might well kill her, could easily kill her just adds to the desire. But Daisy doesn’t want her, doesn’t want this. It’s the Hunt that wants this. The Hunt is forcing this upon her. 

She makes her way to a Section 31 safehouse, knowing that she needs to sleep. It’s an anonymous little flat tucked away in a disused office block. The walls are heavy and thick and very, very soundproof. There were some good times there, she remembers ruefully. 

There’s no one there; it was always her place and perhaps the others are scared to use it in case she goes back. The Hunt sings in her blood and those old sharp senses swing back as she opens the door. Blood in the carpet, blood in the walls. Fear. Tears. Her own cruel laughter, ringing in her ears. She’s fucked people on that couch, while people on the opposite chair drowned slowly in their own blood. 

Not the couch then but the bed. She strips, her clothes stinking with sweat and sex. The sheets are musty and damp but the mattress is more comfortable than the ones at the Institute. If she wasn’t so worked up it’d be easy to get some sleep -proper sleep - here. 

“You stupid bitch,” a voice in the darkness. “You left the door unlocked.”

*

Julia’s been practically insane since they went to the Institute. Trevor was no help - the Hunt sustained him but his days of being able to soothe a rut were long behind him; dead and buried before Julia was even born. Besides, he was her friend, and the things she wanted to do to someone were decidedly unfriendly.   
So he kicked her out. Told her to work it out, however she could. She’d found something meaty and sweet to sink her teeth into, and after the first couple of orgasms had torn the thing to shreds. Then she’d smelled the cooling body and recognised the smell.

Her. Daisy. The skinny little hunter. That such a disgusting runt had aroused such feelings in her was beyond bearing. But she needed to get out of rut before she and Trevor could go after the Archivist and only wee little Daisy would do. Though Daisy’s in no shape to fight back, incapacitating her would be a good move. 

Julia traces her scent halfway across London - she’s spent half of the night with her nose pressed between the legs of squirming women, getting angrier and angrier - so by the time she finally tracks Daisy down she’s in possibly the worst mood of her life. How dare Daisy try to satiate herself with these soft, fragile things. Stupid. Insulting. Daisy needs to be taught a lesson. Daisy needs to know her place. 

Daisy’s hidden herself away in a deserted office block. Good. Although Julia, at this point, would shred her on live tv and only give the mildest of shits - now there’s a thought. Tie the others down and make them watch as Julia brutalises Daisy, makes her come and cry and piss in front of her helpless friends. The image makes her cunt ache. 

The stupid bitch left the door unlocked. Julia doesn’t even bother trying to be quiet because that’s an invitation. Imagine being that far fucking gone.

The bedroom is dark and reeks. There’s a shape on the bed and it stirs as Julia says as many words as she can while her mouth fills with saliva. That strong rut smell suddenly has a few whiffs of fear now, fear that excites Julia all the more. Weakness. Good. She doesn’t have the patience for a real fight, she wants sex, she wants to fuck, she wants to take. 

Daisy does put up a bit of a struggle, but Julia gets a thigh between her legs and presses against that sopping wet heat and Daisy comes from just that. A bit more wrestling insues - then Julia’s got her hands in Daisy’s hair and is grinding herself against Daisy’s mouth. 

It takes a bit of persuading, by way of a knife lightly pressing against Daisy’s lips, but it happens. 

“Don’t half-ass it, or I’ll chew off everything between your legs.”

*

It takes surprisingly little effort to sate Julia, although Daisy’s jaw is aching. It’s almost a relief when Julia duct-tapes her mouth shut because it means that part of this is over. It’s trapped the taste of Julia on her tongue, though. And Daisy knows that this is not about Julia getting off so much as it is about Julia proving that she is better. 

She comes again when Julia slides a finger inside her. Julia laughs and slaps her with her free hand.   
“Dirty little bitch,” she says. “Look at you, all wet for me.”

She leans down and scrapes her teeth across Daisy’s clit. It hurts but it’s good. Then Julia adds another finger. Daisy’s legs start shaking. Sharp nails dig into the muscles of her thigh.

“Stay still.”

The third finger stings as it goes in. Daisy tries to pull away. But the fingers twist and rub and she forgets how to breathe. Another orgasm is building in her and she’s practically cramping with the effort of holding it back. Julia seems to sense this and laughs, leaning down to suck on Daisy’s clit, teeth and tongue and pressure, until everything goes tight and releases. 

“I wonder if I can get my fist in there,” Julia murmurs, more to herself than Daisy. The more rational part of Daisy panics; not without lube, you demented bitch, not without more stretching. But most of her, most of her - she spreads her legs further, begging, desperate. 

Fourth finger, thumb. Julia’s wrist deep in her and Daisy’s full and stretched and sore and arching off the bed, wondering if it’s possible to come so hard you pass out.

*

Daisy’s a lot more pliable after that, Julia notices. She’ll still struggle a bit but it seems to be more for show than anything else. And she’s a squirter, too. Julia licks her clean after every orgasm, taking her time, making sure that she can get Daisy past oversensitivity and back into being horny again.

Rut being rut, it doesn’t take that long. Her own desire’s abated; the first couple of orgasms she got from Daisy have taken the edge off. Now it’s about making Daisy submit, making her hurt, but rut, well, being rut, it’s not enough to just beat her to a pulp. 

While Daisy’s still recovering, Julia takes the precaution of tying her wrists together and flipping her on to her stomach. She rips the duct tape off and pulls Daisy’s hair until she can kiss her; their first, Daisy’s lips bloody and still sticky from the tape. Drool runs down her chin. It’s awkward. 

Bringing the strap on was a whim; Julia hadn’t expected this to be easy enough that she’d get to use it. She steps into it, gets it into place, and drizzles some lube on to it. Then she grabs Daisy up by the hips until Daisy’s on her knees, her face pressed into the bed. 

Daisy does struggle when the tip of the strap presses lightly against her other hole. Julia grins to herself. She’s starting to get wet again; the thought that perhaps Daisy’s never done this before is incredibly exciting. It will hurt and be demeaning and that’s what Julia wants, more than anything. 

There’s resistance, of course, and Daisy begins to sob. Crucially, though, she’s still dripping when Julia gets a hand under the strapon and slides her fingers inside.

“I can’t believe you’re getting off on this,” Julia mutters. She can’t thrust as hard as she wants, given how tight Daisy is, but the way the strapon rubs against her clitoris is starting to fire her up again. 

Daisy sobs in response but shifts her arm so she can rub at her own clit. 

“Fuck,” Julia says, because it’s the hottest she’s been since this started. She adjusts the angle so the strapon and her fingers are rubbing against the same place. 

Daisy’s whole body begins to shake.

“Do it,” Julia says. She wants Daisy to come before she does. And how; Julia feels the wetness hit her thighs with force, dripping down to soak the bed. Daisy is practically convulsing beneath her and the strapon is rubbing and she grinds down, her vision exploding into stars.

*

Daisy waits until Julia gets off the bed to make her move. Julia is unbuckling the stap on, back to her - stupid - when Daisy jumps from the bed, grabs Julia by the hair, and cracks Julia’s forehead against the wall. She does it another couple of times for good measure, and because she thinks she might be bleeding, and because the lust is being replaced by white-hot anger that is at least familiar. 

Julia slides down, rolls over. It takes a lot to get a hunter down and while Julia is fast and strong, Daisy’s been doing this for longer and she’s smarter.

Blood trickles from Julia’s hairline and pours from her nose.

“If I ever see you again,” Daisy says, trying to keep her voice level. “I’m going to do everything you just did to me. But harder. And for longer. Then I’m going to piss in your mouth.”

Julia grins, her teeth stained red. 

“Promises, promises.”


End file.
